Colbert is so Chelsea that it’s almost a theme park. The uniform is so, well, uniform: tweed blazers with velvet collars, well-cut cords, autumnal scarves featuring cute animals just begging to be hunted. I haven’t seen classier everyday clothing in my life.

Everybody – literally everybody – but us ordered the chopped club salad, in which all the vegetables had been cubed and flecked with bacon. It looked a bit Pizza Hut salad bar, but I didn’t say that to anyone.

We shared a menu for about 20 minutes, when M finally lost her patience and asked the waiter for one of her own. 'As you wish, madam,’ he said, as though she’d just made the most hideously ill-bred clanger, but this once he’d let it pass. Another 20 minutes passed before we were asked what we wanted to drink.

I don’t like to overuse pejorative terms in case one day someone serves me something like the glands of a kitten, but the service really is abysmal. The only thing that came without us having to ask twice was the bill.

M had chicken-liver parfait (£6.75), a generous amount with a good, smooth texture, but an indifferent flavour. It came with a brioche that was too sweet and soggy, and a Sauternes jelly that was quite lovely.

I had boudin blanc (£10.50). I am on board with its pallid appearance – you don’t order something with 'blanc’ in the title otherwise – but its casing was eerie, like taking a blunt knife to a bouncy castle, and it was never certain until the last minute that one’s cutlery would actually get through it. The texture of the sausage was like a mousse-lined frankfurter, but otherwise it was good, meaty but not too rich, three-dimensional but not needlessly complicated.

It came on puy lentils that had a nice bite, and two slices of butter-poached apple. It was a good full-fork experience. Indeed, it was the best of the meal, unless you count M’s vacherin (£7.75), which I don’t think we can because someone else made it.

I continued with escalope de veau (£19.75), covered in breadcrumbs, fried, totally tasteless. I kept putting more salt on it, wondering how this was possible; even fried breadcrumbs around a bath sponge should deliver some sensory experience. It just got saltier. There was no lifting it.

I also had some green beans on the side (£3.75), and they were overcooked. It’s cookery 101, isn’t it? Place in boiling water, watch it so it doesn’t go soggy. I would have chucked these out and made some more even if they’d been for my own children.

M’s steak Diane (£27.50 – 'they’re bold!’ she said) would arrive 'pink or well done', said the waiter, evidently feeling that two choices were plenty for the sort of people who ask for menus. She asked for it pink; in fact, it was pink at the dead centre, a lacklustre greyish-brown everywhere else.

All you could taste was a very reduced, intensely salty stock. 'I would never suggest that they’d used an industrial sauce,’ she said, 'but I’ve never had anything made in a domestic kitchen that tastes like that.’ It was so strong, yet flat, that only by texture could you tell the difference between the steak and the mushroom; it was like trying to find a jumper in the dark.

M justified her vacherin cheese as a good test of whether or not the restaurant could tell a ripe one from an unripe one; I suspect the ulterior motive of not fancying anything else. I had the pistachio ice cream (£2.25), which tasted much greener and more synthetic than it ought to have, leaving me wondering if pistachio had been the true source of its character. I posit a sachet of pistachio flavouring, but it’s possible they could have generated the colour with some puréed spinach, and created the taste some other way. It wasn’t very nice, but at least we didn’t have the chopped salad.

FLAWLESS FRENCH...

French Living 27 King Street, Nottingham (0115 958 5885)

The place to go for rustic, fuss-free French food, from saucisson and taste à l’oignon to pan-fried venison with gratin dauphinoise and a sweet blueberry sauce (£15.50). A small cheese and charcuterie counter displays treats to take home.

Bentwood bistro chairs, mirrored walls and checkerboard floors set the scene for a Gallic-inspired menu that’s bursting with great Scottish produce. The coq au vin stars their own bacon (£15.50), while foraged mint infuses the chocolate torte (£6.50)

Café Tabou 4 St John’s Place, Perth (01738 446698)

Especially popular with theatregoers eager to try the early-evening set menu for £18.90. They are rewarded with homemade pâté de campaign with gherkins and a traditional Breton stew packed with beef, duck and Morteau sausage.